@Deirdre ♡
Directly following this thread. Slight powerplay of general Donnelaith members.
Directly following this thread. Slight powerplay of general Donnelaith members.
When the Samhain celebration had come to a close and its audience had dispersed, Lotte reverently approached the altar that had been constructed near Lasher’s grave. Beside it she placed an offering of her own: a glistening conch shell she had taken great pains to collect, as she found the brine-soaked sand largely unpleasant to root through and pick out from between her paw pads. Humming softly to herself, she lifted her voice in song as Emaleth had during the ritual, recalling the words and tune with ease, for swift, impromptu memorization had been part of her bardic training. “You watch over me always, protecting and guarding me, and tonight I thank you,” she sang under her breath, finding particular comfort in the words. She repeated them in a thoughtful murmur: “Watch over me always, protecting and guarding me…” Taking the shell gingerly in her teeth, she adjusted its position to display the patterning of maroon, rust, and peach that striped and dappled the creamy surface.
The smoke-and-shadow bard had been unusually subdued lately, and whether it was because she missed Dagfinn and Lærke or because she felt conflicted about her kohtalo she could not say. She missed Starbuck, too; the kukkatanssija had swiftly become dear to the soot-stockinged rogue. For guidance and for friendship alike, she longed to speak with the málóid banríon — they had seen one another in passing and Lotte cared deeply about the pale queen, but they had not yet been given the chance to converse privately or at length. Still, the usually bold Ansbjørn girl hesitated; she had seen the hurt, stricken look on the forest watcher’s face as she left the gathering and knew that Deirdre must feel some measure of that. When Dagfinn struggled, Lotte struggled; when he grieved, so did she; and when he was happy, no matter what the argent-eyed girl was going through at the time, she was happy.
“Dagfinn, kaksoisveljeni, kaipaan sinua. Kaipaan sinua niin paljon,” she said unhappily. Nothing was ever quite right when they were apart.
The smoke-and-shadow bard had been unusually subdued lately, and whether it was because she missed Dagfinn and Lærke or because she felt conflicted about her kohtalo she could not say. She missed Starbuck, too; the kukkatanssija had swiftly become dear to the soot-stockinged rogue. For guidance and for friendship alike, she longed to speak with the málóid banríon — they had seen one another in passing and Lotte cared deeply about the pale queen, but they had not yet been given the chance to converse privately or at length. Still, the usually bold Ansbjørn girl hesitated; she had seen the hurt, stricken look on the forest watcher’s face as she left the gathering and knew that Deirdre must feel some measure of that. When Dagfinn struggled, Lotte struggled; when he grieved, so did she; and when he was happy, no matter what the argent-eyed girl was going through at the time, she was happy.
“Dagfinn, kaksoisveljeni, kaipaan sinua. Kaipaan sinua niin paljon,” she said unhappily. Nothing was ever quite right when they were apart.
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Messages In This Thread
kohtalo - by Lotte - November 22, 2016, 02:02 PM
RE: kohtalo - by Deirdre - November 22, 2016, 02:18 PM
RE: kohtalo - by Lotte - December 19, 2016, 08:20 AM